


the little time with you is all that i get

by lacecat



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 4x01 AU, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Feelings Realization, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 23:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13282101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: "He had warned me about the dangers of losing oneself to that very darkness when I killed Dufresne. He warned me that our darkest motives will conceal themselves from us, cloak themselves in whatever they must in order to move us to action, just like his loss had done to him. I thought at first that it was another calculated move to keep himself a step ahead. Only now I see that he was trying - trying to tell me what I didn’t see.”Madi is silent. Silver says, “I cannot fathom stepping away from this now, not with this. I will see this war through.””





	the little time with you is all that i get

**Author's Note:**

> i've yet to watch 4x1 without having many feelings about all of them can you tell
> 
> (title from [instant crush](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r83_iyO4rhI) bc it's a jam and i'm not great with titles ok)
> 
> i'm jamesbarlow on tumblr!

"We're so close,” Flint tells him, "So very close.”

 

The ship sways underneath them, and Silver watches the liquid curl up the side of his tankard like waves lapping at the hull. They’re sitting in a storage room just above the crew’s quarters as they share a drink, the rum a little bitter but somehow grounding. The space is usually far from the quiet moment that it now is, but with all the men on the deck staring at the skyline of Nassau coming closer and closer, they find themselves alone for now.

 

Flint says, "If we can just hold this alliance together just a little longer - if we can just will it forward just a little more - "

 

“Nothing will ever be the same for anyone ever again,” Silver finishes. The corner of Flint’s mouth twitches, more wry than anything else. 

 

The liquid moves again in his cup, as Silver adjusts his grip on the cool metal. When Flint doesn’t appear to continue his thoughts, Silver says, "You and I have willed our men through unthinkable things to get this far - why not one more, to call Nassau home again?”

 

Flint’s eyes go to his then, and instead of saying anything else, Silver settles on looking right back at him. Flint’s face is lit up by the light climbing in from outside, the lines under his eyes pronounced as he gazes back at him. He looks worn but hopeful, and some of that Silver thinks might be reflected on his own face. They both know how their future weighs so heavily on this next encounter, and for all of his tendencies toward assuming ruin, Flint sees a way to win this - and so Silver will let them have this quiet moment. 

 

He’s so used to thinking in ways of now and soon. Flint looks at an island, Silver knows he thinks of what has led them there, the visions that he wishes craft before building them from the sand itself. Silver looks at the island, and he thinks about how much he’ll have to dig himself out of that sand to leave before the tide comes back in. 

 

There’s a call from outside, and Silver exchanges another look with Flint before they head out. The wind ruffles his hair, and he meets Madi’s gaze from where she stands, proud and tall on the quarterdeck, overseeing their return to Nassau. 

 

As Silver climbs the steps, he watches Flint move among the men. Silver thinks that maybe after all of this, maybe there is a future there to be discussed, something beyond the war. But both he and Flint know that hope is dangerous, so he pushes down anything beyond what they’re heading into right now, and he joins Madi on the quarterdeck. 

 

Then, of course, it goes terribly wrong. 

 

•••

 

Their hull comes to a screeching halt against the sunken ships, and then the fort starts to fires on them. Silver had been in his fair share of battles these past few months, but this one he knows is especially brutal as the first cannonballs hit their ship. 

 

Wood splinters around him as he ducks below the railing, the smoke already enough to make him cough. Someone lands beside him then, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Flint, having thrown himself from the other side of the ship. 

 

He meets Silver's gaze with wild eyes, as they both focus on each other before Flint's eyes dart up to the sails above him. Silver turns his head, trying to find Madi, but it's impossible to see as the men run around the deck, trying to avoid being hit. 

 

When he turns back, Flint is saying something, but he can't make it out over the sound of cannon fire. Silver's peg leg digs into the deck, and he bites his lip at the sharp stabbing sensation that rockets up into his thigh. 

 

As Flint twists to look down below the deck, Silver's eyes find Madi, huddled towards the bow with her bodyguards nearby. He’s forced to duck again when a cannonball whistles over their heads, hitting the mast with a splintering sound. He can feel Flint’s shoulder collide with his as they're pressed together, Flint’s heavy breathing from somewhere just above his head, as they try to recover. 

 

Then Flint is up, running to the lines to let the sails fly loose, Silver not far behind him. The ship groans around them, but soon she rises enough so that they can fire on the fort. 

 

The next few minutes are full of chaos, both of them are shouting orders even above the carnage playing out around them, the men scrambling to follow until Flint gives the command to abandon ship.

 

Silver pushes the men near him to go over the railing, down into the boats below. He sees Madi being helped over the rail, and he goes over to her, sees the fear in her eyes as he squeezes onto her hands, feeling her heartbeat flutter under his shaking fingers.  Someone’s screaming on the deck, and there are shouts as the men huddle in the boats below, as he looks around them, feeling sick with how helpless they are. 

 

“I’ll be right there,” Silver promises Madi, and he lets go. “Go!"

 

Flint is still on the deck when he turns around, standing tall even as men run past him. Silver sees his head swivel at the ships heading in their direction, no doubt calculating the chance that they can get away from this wreck before it’s too late. This plan, the careful manipulation of their ships - Rogers is a clever tactician, sure, but the fact that this had been hidden for them, that they ran into this so blindly, speaks of issues much larger than simple outwitting. 

 

But now, as he makes his way across the deck, they have much more pressing concerns. “Captain!” Silver shouts, as both he and Flint duck when some of the rigging comes crashing to the deck near them.

 

By the time they make it over to the railing, they’re the last ones left on the ship. Silver makes sure Flint’s swinging his legs over the side of the ship before he starts his own descent. His leg aches each time it gets caught in the ropes down the side of the Walrus, as they both make their way down to the boats waiting below them. He can see Madi’s dark hair in the boat below as she looks up at them, and when he looks over at Flint - 

 

There’s a whistling sound, and the rigging above him becomes detached from the ship. His arms come up, grasping uselessly at air as he falls down. 

 

The cold water is a shock, nearly distracting him from the sensation of his leg being wrenched down below him, as he struggles not to breathe in water. His descent is slowed down by the waves, but as Silver flails, he realizes that his peg leg’s been twisted in the rope, the weight pulling him down and down. 

 

He reaches to try and untangle himself, trying desperately not to panic the deeper he goes. Around him, debris from the ship and the battle above sinks down into the murky depths, and Silver grits his teeth, trying to get free as he hears his blood pound in his ears. His fingernails scrape against the rope, the metal of his leg - he’s got no knife to cut it with, and as the pressure increases in his chest, he knows he’s only got so long before he runs out of air - 

 

Then something grabs his shoulder, and he jerks his head up. Flint is there, and as Silver looks down, his hands are already working at the rope around Silver’s leg. His face is screwed up as he reaches for his waist, pulling out a knife, eyes intent on the rope around his peg leg, a few bubbles escaping from his clenched mouth. 

 

Silver’s lungs are burning at this point, as Flint uses the blade to saw at the rope. He tries to keep his leg still, as Flint’s arm moves, and Silver can see the muscles on the top of his head flex as he tugs Silver’s leg closer. Then he’s cutting at the leather holding the peg leg on, the knife cutting against Silver’s stump as it wiggles back and forth. 

 

Silver feels the moment that the leather breaks, and the leg - along with the rigging - sinks below them. Relief rushes through him for a moment, as Flint’s grabbing at his elbow, then, and they’re both rising in the water. His lungs are burning, and he sees bright scarlet clouds of blood in the water around them. Silver can see Flint’s boots kicking as they ascend, and his mouth opens when he can no longer hold his breath, and the water is like a stabbing pain in his throat - 

 

Silver breaks the surface and coughs, the salt water stinging the corners of his mouth as he retches, trying to get air back into his lungs. Flint’s near him, and as his head swivels around, Silver tries to gasp out something, words he’s not even sure he’s fully formed himself, as they cling to each other in the waves thrashing by their heads. Flint’s mouth is open as he reaches out, keeps a hand on Silver’s elbow. 

 

The sounds around them are muted, the world closed off beyond the sound of them panting, the waves catching around their ears. He can hear shots being fired as a distant booming rhythm, accompanied by the faint high-pitched whistle of bullets over their head. His breath keeps on feeling like it’s getting caught somewhere between his chest and his throat, somewhere at the base of his neck like it’s being caught in a knot. Flint’s grip tightens on him, before letting go. “Go,” he rasps, just barely audible even though their heads are close together the water. 

 

Behind Flint, Silver can see one of their boats heading in their direction. He brings his arm up, tries to gesture to it. Then there’s a sharp crack, like someone snapping too close to his ear. Silver sees Flint’s eyes widen, feels him jerk against him - and he sees the dark hole in Flint’s shoulder. 

 

Silver tries to shout, but a wave slaps in his face, muffling his cry. He reaches out, tries to hold onto Flint as the other man lets go. As he does so, his fingertips brush against the side of Flint’s head, and then he's watching as Flint’s sinking down, disappearing into the water. 

 

Silver tries to take a breath of air, pushing himself below the waves. He’s never been a strong swimmer, even before he lost his leg, but the panic that overtakes him makes him claw at the water below him, trying to find Flint. He thinks he sees a dark shape in the water below him, but just as Silver tries to follow, he’s struck by a piece of debris falling from one of the ships. 

 

The pain makes him lose focus, and he finds himself rising back to the surface. Now the air is unwelcome, but before he can push himself back down, find Flint, there are arms around him, pulling him up and out of the water. 

 

The wood of the boat knocks against the back of his thighs as he’s dragged ungracefully into the boat. His ears pop, and suddenly the world is much too loud around him. He struggles until he recognizes the dark hands that are on his, the face that’s just in his frame of vision, and he realizes he's still coughing.

 

“Flint,” Silver gets out between gasps, as the men around them shout, shooting back at the incoming ships, as Madi reaches to touch his face, “Flint was in the water - “

 

Madi’s head snaps up, and she says something, her voice muffled by the noise as the men on the boat fire back at the approaching ship. Silver tries to sit up, his stump landing painfully on the floor of the boat. Someone’s shouting, as they try to regain momentum, get away from the ships, but they can’t -  he needs to get to Flint - 

 

Something hits into their boat, or maybe the men shift their weight too soon, for then Silver falls back into the boat, his leg screaming at him as it rubs against the splintered surface. One of Madi’s bodyguards covers her with his body once again, and as Silver meets her gaze from beneath a burly arm, he feels like he’s sinking right back under the waves.

 

 

•••

 

Hope is a delicate, fragile thing, isn't it?

 

•••

 

 

They stand on the shore. Silver’s eyes are fixed on the last boat that’s heading to their location. Behind them, he can hear the men gathering, muttering under their breath. A few of them have approached him, but he’s waved them off. One of them has found a piece of driftwood that he’s using as a sort of cane for now - imperfect, far from ideal, but necessary until he can find a replacement for the leg or some sort of crutch. 

 

Madi comes up from behind him. He can hear her approach, feel her touch the side of his hand. “They pulled an injured man out of the water,” she says. “It might be him.” 

 

They stand in silence as the last boat comes closer and closer until its bow meets the wet sand. Silver looks at the men on the boat, his gaze lingering on the one they help onto the sand. 

 

He thinks the man’s name is Joseph. He’s been on the ship for about four months by now, a decent shot, generally well-liked by the men. The men help him out of the boat, as he grimaces and holds a wad of cloth to his upper arm. If he’s walking, it’s probably not a bad wound, he’ll live. 

 

“I know,” Madi says then, in the silence that stretches out, “That you considered him a friend.” 

 

Silver keeps his eyes on the boat, even as the men walk past them, joining the others on the beach behind him.

 

“When we saw you go into the water, he was the first to jump in after you,” Madi says. “Not the only man willing to, but he did so without hesitation.”

 

He needs to not be on this beach, anywhere but here. But there’s nowhere to go, and so he’s stuck looking at the empty boat bobbing on the edge of the water. 

 

“You know I had my reservations about him. But for what he did today, he will always have my gratitude.” 

 

It had taken a shot near the bow, the wooden edge damaged. They’ll have to fix that. The numbness that started in his chest is growing, the pressure not unlike being held underwater. His ears ring as he hears the men gathering behind him.

 

Madi says, “John.” 

 

He turns to look at her, and there’s a line in her brow at whatever she sees on his face. “I’m sorry,” she says then, quietly. “For what it’s worth, now, I am sorry for your loss.” 

 

There’s noise coming from behind them, the men’s murmuring growing quiet. When they both turn, they can see men coming down to the beach. He sees Billy leading them, recognizes a few among the group as Walrus men. Silver hobbles forward, Madi's hand at the small of his back, as they approach. 

 

Billy looks more gaunt, with a thick beard along his jaw. “Silver,” he says, as he meets them on the sand. The men gather around them. “What happened?” 

 

“They sank ships in the harbor,” Silver says. He sounds distant to even his own ears, his voice hoarse. “They obstructed the entrance. We fell under direct fire of the fort.” 

 

“There are over two hundred men unaccounted for,” Madi says at his side. “The last anyone saw of her, the Revenge was heading north.” 

 

“And Flint?” Billy questions. “Where is he?” 

 

The men grow silent, then. The ringing in his ears gets worse. 

 

“Flint is dead,” Madi says, and even though Silver had watched the ship land on the beach, the air feels like it's being sucked out of his lungs at the words. "He was one of the casualties." 

 

Surprise flashes over Billy's face for the briefest moment, before his features grim. "I see." He looks at Silver, who stares right back at him, feeling as hollow as he must look. 

 

Madi says, “That sort of preparation and movement by Rogers must have no doubt caught your attention, and yet you did not think to warn us?” For all the restraint in her posture, her tone is edged with something - perhaps stress leaking through, but either way, Silver keeps his eyes on Billy.

 

Billy frowns at her. “I did warn you,” he says, “I sent word six days ago when I first learned of it.” 

 

“And who did you send?” 

 

“Mr. Featherstone,” Billy says. “But I find it hard to believe that he would betray us like this - he’s been loyal this entire time, at great risk. “

 

“Mr. Featherstone, it seems, has betrayed us,” Madi tells him coolly. “I would suggest that you find who else among your men here might have reason to do something similar in the future.” 

 

That makes Billy’s eyes narrow. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says. “Without the ships, without Flint, and with so many of the men gone, taking over Nassau is as good as over.” 

 

“Nothing is inevitable here,” Madi says, and when Silver turns his head to look at her, there’s a certain fire burning in her eyes that before then, he had seen in only one other man. “We will regroup, recover, and then we will take the fight to them.” 

 

Billy's eyes flick from her to Silver. "We'll go back to the camp now," he decides. 

 

•••

 

The realization of the nature of their relationship first came to him several weeks ago, on the top of a hill back on the island. He had watched the corners of Flint’s eyes crinkle after Silver had nearly gotten a blade to his throat - the success born from weeks of training on the top of that hill - and something inside him knew then. He had the same feeling when he had stood next to Flint in a cage, and he had realized that he couldn’t stand back and let Flint throw away his life. He had felt it when Flint had told him about Thomas Hamilton, the lantern by their boots making the look in Flint’s eyes seem even more far away.

 

But of course, it’s only when he feels the dull ache of loss that puts it into perspective. He couldn’t see it before, but now that he sits around a table with Billy and Madi, an empty chair across from Madi, he realizes he's lost more than a battle. 

 

(“It has made me transparent to you,” Flint said, and oh, if only Silver had been transparent to himself - ) 

 

One of their men lights the fireplace and departs so that it’s only the three of them in the room. Billy sits down after a long moment, his large frame looking out of place in the small wooden chair. 

 

“There might be as many as a hundred men captured, sitting in Nassau town right now,” Billy informs them. “They’ll start hanging them as soon as dawn tomorrow in town.”

 

Madi’s hands are on the table, laid out in front of her as a queen might sit. She asks, “You wish to free them?”

 

“We don’t have the numbers to go back to Nassau,” Billy says. “But we can increase our numbers using the Underhill plantation.” 

 

“The Underhill plantation?” 

 

“If we free the slaves, convince them to join our cause, that could give us an advantage in terms of number to overwhelm Berringer’s men still stationed in the town,” Billy says. “We lose more men the longer we wait, men we cannot afford to lose if we are still to take back Nassau.” 

 

“We risk retribution against other slaves on the island if we attack Underhill,” Madi says evenly. “That is a cost than we cannot afford, either.” 

 

The longer Silver listens to them, the more his head hurts. He wants to sleep - rather, he wants to drink until he’s sure the numbness will cover whatever lurks beneath it. But then Madi’s leg nudges his under the table, and he looks up, sees the tenseness in her shoulders as Billy says, “If we can convince even a few of the slaves - “

 

“You mean if I can convince them."

 

A long moment passes by. “Yes,” Billy says. “But beyond the slaves, the men out there will need another assurance after the loss today. They’ll need the man they pledged to lead to step up, take control of what I have built here.” 

 

It takes a few seconds too long for Silver to realize that he’s looking right at him. He lifts his head, meets Billy’s eyes as the other man says, “Now that Long John Silver has returned to Nassau, we can push for more of the people in Nassau to join us. The black spots might not work on Berringer’s man, but your name might just convince some of them to think twice against resisting."

 

“Long John Silver has grown beyond one man,” Silver says, and he sees Madi glance over to him. “What is it that you’re asking, Billy?” 

 

Billy says, “I know the loss of Captain Flint does not bode well for our success. But this war has grown beyond him, become something other than his own motivations. I need to know if you’re ready to take on what comes next, to do what needs to be done in your own name.” 

 

“This war did not die with Flint,” Madi says sharply. “It was not just Flint who had sworn to see this war to its end.” 

 

Billy opens his mouth to respond, but Silver cuts him off. “Flint and the Maroon Queen started this war,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “I know what you’ve been building here. I know the men out there are committed to following that name, from what we have all been striving for these past few months. I am ready to take ownership of what I have been promised.” 

 

He looks at Madi, then, whose expression is unreadable. Silver says, “We will take back Nassau. We will drive every British soldier off this island, and we will take back what is ours through any cost that accumulates in our path, until they live in fear of our names once again. That, I know, is what we are all committed to, and that is what we will do.” 

 

 

•••

 

 

When the door closes behind Billy, rather than rising, Madi remains seated. Silver doesn’t take his eyes away from the wood grain of the table in front of them. The fire in the corner is still burning, but he barely feels the warmth on his skin, even as he sags into his chair. 

 

“I did not trust Flint because I did not trust him with your loyalty,” Madi says finally, and he looks up at her. “I did not see how such a man could allow anyone to have power over him, how he could stand letting himself to be vulnerable to anyone.” 

 

He shifts in his chair. “He was my friend.” 

 

“He was more than that to you.” 

 

The fire crackles in the corner of the room. 

 

“I suppose I told myself that he had obtained your loyalty like he did anything else,” Madi continues after studying him for a moment, measuring whatever she can see on Silver’s face. “Perhaps you thought you needed him more than he needed you. I feared what would happen if it had come to measuring those values, putting one loss against another.”

 

The numbness is receding, now that it’s only Madi in front of him, as he can feel her eyes on his face, seeing him as close to unmasked as he could ever be. It's as though there's a thread being pulled deep inside him, quickly unraveling now that nothing's holding it back. 

 

He inhales quickly, sharply, as Madi continues, "Billy and his men out there, they see this loss as something that can be filled in with a victory in Nassau. But I am afraid that whatever comes next, it will not fill the hole that I see growing in you now,” she says. 

 

The thread continues to be pulled. He doesn't know what to say. 

 

"I know that you are more affected than you would care to have any of them out there know, and that concerns me more than your ability to lead those men into battle without Flint at your side.” She pauses. "Should I be concerned that you do not see that yourself?" 

 

They’re in Miranda Barlow’s house, Silver realizes belatedly. He could barely recognize the space now, with the furniture pushes to the sides and covered with gunpowder and broken glass. It’s no longer a home, even though remnants of something domestic - a broken vase by the window, ragged curtains pushed to the ground - still remain. Silver lets his eyes trail over the windows, where the light from the torches from outside catches on the ridges of the glass panels.

 

“The woman who lived in this house loved Flint,” Silver tells her, and it's Madi's turn to sit back. “There were others before, who had lived and died loving him. He told me of those past partners, how those tragedies have seemed to follow him throughout his life.”

 

“You told me of them once,” Madi says. “The man in whose name he pledged to fight this war against civilization.” 

 

He thinks about the look in Flint’s eyes as he sat next to him on the Walrus, as they watched each other, so close and yet miles apart - hurtling together, and yet now they won’t ever meet. He remembers Flint's face when he had first told him about Thomas, that distant look, like he's searching for some comfort he knows he won't find - and oh, does he understand now. 

 

“When Flint lost Thomas, he started this war, all those years ago,” Silver says. “He took his rage, his grief - and he turned it into something that he could use to get revenge against the world that had called him a monster. I met him when he was consumed with this goal, and only recently had I caught a glimpse of the man that he was before - if such a man could still exist.” 

 

He stops for a moment. "He had warned me about the dangers of losing oneself to that very darkness when I killed Dufresne. He warned me that our darkest motives will conceal themselves from us, cloak themselves in whatever they must in order to move us to action, just like his loss had done to him. I thought at first that it was another calculated move to keep himself a step ahead. Only now I see that he was trying - trying to tell me what I didn’t see.” 

 

Madi is silent. Silver says, “I cannot fathom stepping away from this now, not with this. I will see this war through.”

 

“That’s all that Billy wanted to know,” Madi says quietly. “But what I wonder is if you will be consumed by whatever comes next?”

 

To that, he has no answer. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but then he hears the creak of Madi pushing her chair back, hears his own shuddering breath. 

 

Then her lips are soft on his forehead, as she kisses him there. “We will win this,” she says, her breath warm on his face, “But I am afraid of losing you to your own darkness when it is done.” 

 

“I have you,” he says, breathing in, before looking up at her face. “You’re not lost to me. I have something to come back to.” 

 

She smiles, but it’s a sad curve to her mouth. “I thought that would be enough,” Madi says, “But it isn’t, or at least not anymore, is it?” 

 

•••

 

They retire to one of the rooms in the Barlow cottage, where they find a dusty bed, a pistol lying on a table to the side. Madi falls asleep first, and he focuses on her gentle breathing against his neck.

 

Only as soon as he drifts off, his dreams are violent, colorful affairs. He’s back on the Walrus, and the boards beneath him are consumed by fire, the wood warping even as he stands above them. He watches as the canvas turns dark-edged with the flames, feels the blistering heat on his face, hears the roaring fire as he’s stuck in place, watching the ship being consumed by fire. 

 

Then Flint’s in front of him, and when Silver reaches forward, trying to get to him, Flint's just out of grasp, again and again. His face is serious as he watches Silver, flickering like some sort of mirage through his fingers, never quite tangible enough to touch. 

 

Then Flint’s mouth is moving, only Silver can’t hear him. Flint speaks silently, as Silver feels the heat grow and grow around them. He can only watch as the fire catches onto the ends of his hair - long like when he had first met him, and Silver _screams_ - 

 

He wakes up, heartbeat thudding so much he thinks he's shaking at first. He must make some noise, for Madi sits up in bed next to him, puts her hand on his back as he tries to calm himself. 

 

"John," she whispers, her touch careful as though he's a spooked animal, just as liable to bite her as he is to run away. "What is it?”

 

He considers telling her to go back to sleep. But the dream has shaken him enough so that the words spill right off his tongue. 

 

"I want to burn it all down," Silver tells her, feels her hand still on his shoulder. "I want to have Woodes Rogers beg for mercy in front of me, and I want to kill him myself." He feels blood in his mouth, and he realizes he's bitten his tongue. The blood drips out onto the pale sheets, and he watches the dark dots forming, slowly spreading out on the fabric. _How’s that for a monster?_

 

Madi's hand squeezes on him ever so slightly, then loosens. “But what would he beg mercy for?” she asks, and he stiffens in surprise. “You’re the one that killed him, not Rogers.” 

 

“What - “ 

 

“Oh, Solomon,” Madi says, and he jerks to look at her. “You led to his end, just like you suggested. You’ll probably lead to my end as well. What more do you want from us?” 

 

Silver’s eyes fly open as he finally wakes. Madi’s still asleep on his chest, the candle in the corner of the room still flickering from where it’s nearly burned down. He can still feel her deep breathing as the breath catches in his throat, and he bites down on the back of his knuckles. 

 

Although he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to block any of it out, he doesn’t go back to sleep.

 

•••

 

In the fort, Eleanor stares at the page before her. Ever since the messenger arrived telling them of the pirates’ retreat, she’s been at her desk - but it’s not her desk, really, it’s just some storage room that she’s managed to squirrel away for when she wants a moment of quiet to write in her journal. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think that Mrs. Rogers had her own thoughts, especially not from _Richard Guthrie’s daughter_. She spins the ring on her finger around and around, thinking, the quill long abandoned on top of a page. 

 

She doesn’t let herself think about before, not really, but it’s in dangerous moments like these, that she remembers the heavy oak desk above the tavern, every groove and nick on it, and she’s nearly nostalgic about it. 

 

There’s a quiet knock on the door, then, and Eleanor lifts her head just as it opens. It’s Max - and she isn’t surprised that she knew where to find her, after all - who looks around the room before her eyes settle on Eleanor. She steps in, closes the door behind her.

 

“Someone will notice your absence,” Max says carefully when neither of them speak. “I am glad I found you here first.” 

 

“I’m not a prisoner here,” Eleanor retorts, childish to even her own ears, and she puts her hands on her lap as Max looks around the space. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“There has been a development,” Max says. “One that I believe I should come to you first, before your husband or Captain Berringer.”

 

“What is it?” 

 

“I had dispatched a few of my men in an attempt to gather several prisoners from the battle this morning,” Max says. “I sent them down to the shores this afternoon, to claim some of them before the other men got to them.” 

 

“You mean to capture the pirates for information,” Eleanor realizes. “Going behind Berringer's back, I might add.” 

 

“Berringer would like to see the pirates hung as quickly as possible,” Max points out. "I see that they have value beyond that - information that we could all use in order to quell this rebellion quickly and quietly.” 

 

“Max,” Eleanor says, “Why are you telling me this?” 

 

“My men captured Captain Flint,” Max says plainly. “I have him in my possession now.” 

 

“Flint - “ Eleanor stands up abruptly. “They said that he was killed today in the battle.” 

 

“Nearly so, but they recovered him from the beach,” Max says. 

 

"You're sure it's him?"  


 

"It is." Something in her gaze softens. “I came to you because I know that he was like a father to you at one point, and I hope that you will see what I did when the news came to me. There is an opportunity here - “ 

 

“Captain Flint is a pirate.” The words fall out of her mouth, cool and flat. “I will ask you to turn him over to Captain Berringer for a proper trial as soon as possible - “

 

“Eleanor - “ 

 

“- if you do so now, I will forget that you came to me before going to the proper authorities - "

 

“Eleanor,” Max interrupts, and Eleanor's mouth closes with a click, “Think about this. The pirates think that Flint is dead. The moment we hand him over to Berringer, they will demand him back.”

 

“So what - you want to ransom him? Torture him for information?” Eleanor scoffs. “Flint would never give in. Nor, I suspect, would many of his men actually pay to have him back."

 

“We let them think Flint is dead for now,” Max says, “But if he is a rational man, he will hear us out. If we can convince him, we stand at a way to ensure our victory, with the least amount of bloodshed by either side.” 

 

“You think Flint would help us with whatever your plan is?” 

 

“I think Flint would help you,” Max says, and she looks at Eleanor right in the eye. “I could hand him over to the captain, yes. You could go back to writing in here - “ and she casts a look around them, at the cramped quarters - “ - or you could have the chance to end this war. The choice is yours, now, in this moment.” 

 

She breathes in, out. What she’s suggesting - 

 

She can't. 

 

But she has to. 

 

“Who else knows he’s alive?” Eleanor finally asks.

 

•••


End file.
